


we didn't start the fire.

by pinkgrapefruit



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Family Dynamics, Fire, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Gen, Therapy, Waffles, grievous injury but i dont think anyone will die?, i refuse to write branjie together in this fic, is the new fire chief a patron saint of nepotism or is she just misunderstood?, this is not a HR approved working enviroment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgrapefruit/pseuds/pinkgrapefruit
Summary: Jackie Cox steps into the shared kitchen area to the waiting faces of nine firefighters. They look like a family, the kind that bickers relentlessly, but still holds a weekly brunch, and it makes her heart ache that she will never really have that - she’s the chief, no one wants to have a brunch with the chief. She rolls her shoulders back, relishing in the feeling of her white oxford shirt as it crinkles pleasantly. Clearing her throat, she begins to speak.[ firefighter au ]
Relationships: Jackie Cox/Jan Sport, Monét X Change/Nina West, Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49





	we didn't start the fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my new baby of whom I am in love with! she's a whole lot of fun and honestly, as much as I whine about group fics I love the dynamics so much. I really hope you all enjoy it! Thanks to Jaz (silverhytes), Frey (freykitten/thorpe) and Ortega for their enthusiasm and support. I can't wait to hear what you think <3

“Michelle was a fantastic captain. Hell, she could have told you that - if she’d lived long enough to.” Katya sounds bitter. She’s not used to the tone of her own voice and she turns it over on her tongue a couple of times before she continues. She’s full to the brim with grief and coffee, and she’ll be close to crying if this new Chief doesn’t let her get back to the bunks where she was quite happy to just sob into the bedsheets until a call comes through. “Respectfully, Chief, I’d like to get back to my team,” she bites out, fingers gripping the arms of the chair.

The blinds are shut on the door making the captains’ office feel like it’s enclosing on the meeting. There’s a certain feeling of jumping into someone's grave, and it makes Katya feel a little bit sick to look around and see all of Captain Visage’s belongings neatly packed into a box - a whole life boiled down into photos and a pair of rainbow turnout suspenders that she kept above the desk. 

“I understand, Zamo,” Chief Cox responds, shifting uncomfortably in her own seat. “I’ll get to the point. I want to put you forward as the new captain of Station Thirteen.” 

Katya blinks a couple of times - tilts her head to the side, so her messy bun falls slightly on top of her head. 

“It’ll require a peer review from your station, but I believe you’d be fantastic at the role. You’ve been lieutenant for three years now, and I believe you could make this station something fantastic.” The chief looks at Katya expectantly - not quite sure what she’s expecting, but waiting nonetheless.

“This Station is already fantastic,” she remarks in a way that tells you it is not up for debate. “Thank you, chief.”

Katya stands up - pushing her chair under the desk and leaving the room as fast as her feet can carry her. Jackie Cox leans back in her seat and sighs, it’s going to be a long day.

*

Jackie Cox steps into the shared kitchen area to the waiting faces of nine firefighters. They look like a family, the kind that bickers relentlessly, but still holds a weekly brunch, and it makes her heart ache that she will never really have that - she’s the chief, no one wants to have a brunch with the chief. She rolls her shoulders back, relishing in the feeling of her white oxford shirt as it crinkles pleasantly. Clearing her throat, she begins to speak. 

“Thirteen, I am excusing your team from calls tonight,” she listens to the downtrodden exhales of the group before continuing, “instead - I am holding peer reviews for your new captain. I want to put forward Lieutenant Zamo, but I need a clear picture before I do so.” 

One of them - a small fighter with blonde hair whispers something to another, darker-skinned girl, setting them both off in hushed giggles, until Lieutenant O’Hara taps on the table, sending them warm, but disapproving glances. Jackie shifts on her feet, but she remembers what her father has always told her - ‘eyes forward,’ she thinks - and she nods to herself. 

“If we’re all good here - I want Mateo first,” she announces, trying to sound authoritative before taking herself up to a meeting room - not feeling like she can spend the evening in a dead woman’s office. She tries not to hear the mocking ‘yes, Chief’s thrown in her direction. 

*

Vanessa Mateo has not always dreamt of being a firefighter. When she was younger she did not want to run into flames, and to be fair - she’s not quite sure she does now. Her mama always asked her to be safe - she envisioned a life as a baker or a florist or a museum curator. She didn’t want to work three twenty-four-hour shifts a week, sleeping in bunks, and showering in the ten minutes between calls to rid herself of the smell of gas and soot and sadness that always lingers. 

She takes her long, coffee-coloured hair out of its usual low ponytail and lets it fall over her back in a sheet, pushing the long sleeves of her undershirt up to her elbows and unbuttoning the top button of her shirt. The stitching of Mateo over the left breast is so new it’s still a perfect white. 

She knocks on the door timidly, pushing it open like the contents of the room is going to bite her (which it could - she’s not heard the best things about the Chief, and she’s not so sure it’s going to be a fun meeting.

“Come along, Mateo, I don’t have all day,” Jackie exhales tiredly. 

Vanessa sits on the chair opposite the chief, who has let her dark hair out of the low bun she’d had it in before, so it is sitting on her shoulders. She looks disarmed - disarming, and it makes Vanessa nervous.

“Tell me about your experience with Zamo,” she asks, and Vanessa nods along. 

“I mean, I’m only a Proby,” she points out weakly, hoping to avoid cross-examination, and the Chief smiles. 

“I know, Mateo, my notes say you’ve been here a week and a half and you’ve just watched your old boss die in a fire. I want to know what you think.” She smiles, and it should be encouraging. It’s not.

“Okay… It was my first shift…”

_ She’s riding in the back of the Ladder truck with Zamo and Mattel, who bicker over the steering wheel as they pull into the house that called. She hears something about stocking the fridge at home and assumes they see the station as home, because she’s only twelve hours into the shift but she already considers the team her family.  _

_ Zamo jumps out in her shirt and long trousers, knocking on the door peppily, as Vanessa and Mattel grab the equipment needed for a carbon monoxide test and some basic first aid. They’re just coming up to the door when they hear a man shouting.  _

_ He’s berating Zamo for having shown up - telling her there’s nothing wrong at all as a woman and a young boy stand far enough behind him - they seem to be cowering in his shadow. The boy moves his hands at his mother rapidly and the mother responds.  _

_ Zamo reads between the lines quickly and effectively, she separates the man from the other civilians, sends Mattel to occupy him as she stands in front of the boy - communicating with her hands as if she’s a natural. Vanessa checks the house for gas, but all she finds is the burners switched on, so she turns them off and returns to Zamo who pulls her aside - keeping a watchful eye on Mattel who’s dealing with the man’s blatant misogyny as she tries to convince him that she is a professional.  _

_ Zamo tells her the man has been beating his wife and his stepson. The son is deaf, he never bothered to learn sign language. She tells them she knows where they can go and then sends them inside to grab stuff as she makes her way over to Mattel to assist in distracting the man, who is only becoming more irate.  _

_ She tells the man that men can withstand certain levels of gas, but women and children cannot, in a hope to boost his ego, and it works, so he concedes that his wife and stepson can stay somewhere else.  _

_ They drive the small family unit to an old friend of Zamo’s, where they will be safe as she starts the divorce proceedings. They leave them with a stack of leaflets for domestic violence sufferers and remind them of the legal drop in every third Monday. Mattel and Zamo don’t bicker in the truck on the way back. _

“She saved that kid,” Vanessa says earnestly. “The mother had tried to call the cops before, but the man just charmed them into thinking she was overreacting. Zamo did good.”

Jackie hums. She flicks her pen a couple of times, loose in her grip as she watches Vanessa, who’s managed to stay relatively cool under her questioning. “Do you think she deserves to be captain?” She questions, eyes creasing.

“I do, Chief.”

“Okay,” Jackie says and she watches Vanessa deflate, a hand running through her hair as she pushes the sleeves, which have not moved, further up her forearms. “Send in Hytes next.”

*

Brooke Lynn Hytes is clean. She is presentable. She wears the same sleek bun every day - her blonde hair coiled neatly at the base of her neck. Her skin is always pale and clear. No one has ever seen her cry.

She has the work ethic and athleticism of a ballerina and the sense of humour of someone with something seriously wrong. This is why she was given the Proby. 

She has to shape Vanessa into someone that could save a life - teach her how to intubate on a person already brain dead, so she won’t panic when she’s intubating someone who can still survive it. It’s gruelling and gruesome, but Brooke’s the most polished person at the station, and the only one with the rigidity and the discipline to train someone up into a good ass firefighter, and she’ll be damned if anything stops her. 

She walks into the conference room with confidence and a smile, shaking the Chief’s hand with a firm grip. “Afternoon.” She nods stoically, impersonally.

“Good afternoon, Hytes. You know why we’re here?” 

“I do.” 

“Shall we then? Tell me why Zamo should be the Captain of Station 13.”

_ A woman got her leg stuck down an open manhole. Nothing horrible, but nothing you really want to happen to you. _

_ The aid car and both trucks were called so we were all there, I mean - Michelle was on vacation, so she wasn’t with us. As the longest-serving lieutenant, Zamo stepped in as captain. She did a fine job. _

_ I was on Aid car with Mattel, so we assessed the situation and realised we couldn’t pull her out without degloving her leg as it was so stuck on the gravel, so we went back to the team. Zamo knew the protocol, she knew the risks of sinkholes in the area, she made us all harness up to the ladder truck before we could go back. It was a good call... _

*

Kameron Michaels has grown up a fighter. She was the girl who hid in the library until bullies made her fight for herself, and fight she did. 

She was a blackbelt in karate by eleven, jiu-jitsu by fourteen, and taekwondo by seventeen; fought in rings and underground matches until the police pulled her out and told her to make something of her life, so she did. 

She went to the fire academy. She killed the fire academy. She got some of the highest scores ever seen in the city, and was pulled into Station 13 by Michelle before she could blink, dragging Asia along with her. 

She knocks on the door before she enters, but when she walks in, she looks pensive. 

“Michaels, it’s been a while,” Jackie lets the corners of her lips quirk up, but Kameron doesn’t reciprocate - her face staying impassive, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. “Okay, then,” Jackie sighs, “talk to me about Zamo and the sinkhole...”

_ She harnessed me and O’Hara up, had us attached to the ladder truck while Mantione was on the rig. We tried to keep the girl as calm as possible while using hand-held chisels to dislodge as much gravel as possible.  _

_ Monét - I mean Bertin - and West wanted to move us on to power tools, 'cause we’d manage it faster and Mattel was worried about possible compartment syndrome on the leg, but with the swelling the victim already had, we didn’t want to shake the leg too much - figured we could just keep trying with the handheld stuff. Zamo agreed.  _

_ We had been at it for maybe ten minutes and we’d done pretty good, but then Hytes came over and checked on the victim. Her leg had gone numb apparently, so we started medical planning and Zamo took full control. She got Mattel to tourniquet the leg, and then got Bertin rigged, so she could help us with pulling the girl out, 'cause we weren’t going to get it any looser. That’s when things started to go a little sideways… _

*

Asia O’Hara really isn’t sure why she’s here. Except she is. She’s smart and she’s witty and she cares too damn much in a way that ruins her whenever they lose, and no one ever tells you this, but in firefighting, you lose more than you win.

So she loses a lot, but she has friends - in Kameron and Jan - and they pull her through it most of the time. She’s known Kam since the academy, they’ve been friends almost eight years, and she’s known Jan since she mentored her as a Proby two years ago when she didn’t know that yellow caps went on the sixty-minute oxygen cylinders and that you can double a tank’s time by singing ‘I’m a little teapot’ under your breath.

Visage promoted her to a Lieutenant when she decided she was done with Zamo and Mattel flirting their way through controlling the group, so Asia is their third wheel (and the treasurer of the betting pool surrounding their relationship). She’s not mad about it, but she can’t tell Cox, because it’s against protocol to date someone not of your rank and god help the trust of the team if there is something the two of them are hiding.

No one wants to be the one who is left behind, because Trixie saved her girlfriend. Or maybe not-girlfriend.

“Lieutenant O’Hara, tell me about the incident with the manhole cover. The one where Zamo took over as Captain.”

_ … So Bertin came over to help us pull, and I was just chilling, ready to grab the foot when it came up. We had everything ready for extraction, and then suddenly it felt like the ground was shaking a little bit. A crack started to appear, and then everything moved fast.  _

_ Zamo had West and Bertin on the perimeter, and so there were no civilians around, which was good, 'cause god help us if there had been. We realised stuff was about to go even further sideways, so we positioned ourselves to pull the victim towards the ambulance as fast as we could because we just had to hope that if a sinkhole did appear, we’d be far enough.  _

_ Zamo had had the foresight to rig the victim, so we just pulled and ran, and thank god everything fell into place.  _

_ Only a few square feet of ground caved in, so we were safe. We got the girl to the hospital and she still has her leg, thank heavens. _

_ I don’t think any of the other Lieutenants, myself included, would have done what she did, and I think we would have suffered for it. _

*

“So, Hytes, do you think Zamo should be made a Captain?”

Brooke presses the tips of her fingers together pensively. “She’s got no respect for the rules. She runs around like a headless chicken sometimes, and no one knows what she’s doing, until she pulls off the most superb and technical save you can think of. She’s a good communicator, most of the time, and a good leader, sometimes, and I think she’d be a good fit for our team.”

“Thank you, Hytes, that was enlightening. Send in Michaels on your way out.”

*

“Do you think Zamo would be a good Captain, Michaels?” 

“Yes. I do. But all I’m really asking is for you to keep it in the family. Keep it in the team. We have the best response time in the state. Do not bring in someone who will sully our good name. We are a family, keep it that way.”

She stands up, quietly, mechanically, in a way that seems planned. She is calm but passionate, and she nods when she’s asked to send in O’Hara. Jackie sets her head on the table with a sigh. 

*

Asia leans back in her chair, arching her back until it clicks. 

“You should promote Zamo. She knows what she’s doing,” she states impassively. 

Jackie smiles at the simplicity of the argument. “Alright, O’Hara - I want Mantione up next, I think.” She sighs as she looks down the remaining names, and Asia chuckles at the door. 

“Long day, boss?” She asks with a slight smirk. 

“The longest,” Jackie quips with a sigh. 

*

Asia returns from the meeting with the intention of taking a nap. The whole team being off calls means they basically have free rein to do whatever as long as chores are done, and if Asia remembers correctly, she cleaned the turnout room this morning, so she swings by the kitchen to make a protein shake before heading to the bunk room. 

“Jan, you’re up,” she yells across the kitchen, and the blonde lifts her head off the table with a grimace. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” she mocks lovingly, dragging herself up and standing in front of Asia briefly, so the older woman can fix her buttons. 

“Show the chief who’s the boss!” Asia hollers after her with a whoop, letting the second newest member of the team meander her way up to the conference room as she pilfers the last of the Nutella from the fridge - writing a note on the door and hoping it didn’t belong to anyone from the B shift. 

Jan’s been doing this a year and she’s only met one chief. The old one was well respected, known to have worked his way up from the very bottom of the system. He was also Jackie Cox’s dad. She’s not sure how she feels about that one.

You see Jan grew up playing soccer. She worked her ass off as the shortest girl on the team to become striker for the sport she loved. She played through college at Penn State, coaching the younger girls and praising them for hard work. She could have joined the National team or the NWSL, but she declined to become a firefighter. She’s grown up on hard work and putting effort in, and she’s pretty sure Jackie is the patron saint of nepotism, and that just rubs her the wrong way.

“Mantione, is it?” Jackie asks as she enters. “I don’t think we’ve met before?” 

Jan steels herself, head tilted innocently. “Captain Visage's funeral,” she states. “You didn’t say a word.” She doesn’t mean to sit there and accuse Cox of being a bad chief, really, she doesn't - it just sort of slips out. 

“I -” Jan cuts her off before she can defend herself.

“You didn’t say a word at the funeral of this city's best known, most loved and respected fire captain, and then you deem yourself worthy of choosing a new one? Really?” She’s mocking her and she doesn’t even know where it’s coming from. Michelle had been a mother figure to her, yes. She’d looked up to the woman and the older woman had held her close when times got tough - maybe she does know where this is coming from. She sure as hell can’t shut it off now, though. 

“Mantione,” Jackie says, voice calm but shaking slightly.

“It’s a respect thing. And you clearly have no respect for this firehouse. This house. This family. THIS TEAM.” Her hand hits the table and it burns her palm as Jackie stands. 

She towers over the five’ two girl, eyes burning slightly as she stares. “MANTIONE,” she commands - voice louder and lower than even she is used to. “I don’t think this is a path you want to go down.”

Jan just looks straight ahead, unwilling to admit maybe she should have yelled at a therapist or the empty packet of raspberries someone left in the fridge, rather than the boss of the fire department.

“Your team is good.” Jackie nods and she gives Jan the courtesy of leaving a gap in the conversation. 

“We’re better than good,” she follows. “Station 23 is good. I mean, they’re not. Their call time is eight minutes. Police get there quicker than eight minutes. Do you know what Station 13’s response time is?”

“I believe,” Jackie scans her documents, Jan is making a fair point and she needs to cling to some hope of reminding the youngster she cannot yell at authority without punishment. “Five minutes, you’re on five minutes.”

“Yeah,” Jan scoffs, “on a bad day. Three minutes is the fastest. Station 13 sets the bar for response times. So if you can’t get the rest of the department up to speed, the least you can do is not give some subpar outsider the keys to our castle.”

Jan takes a deep breath and attempts to reassess the situation. “That may have all come out wrong,” she says, quietly, trying to put out the fires without setting any new ones.

“You just yelled at me,” Jackie states plainly, tapping her pen rhythmically on the tabletop as she watches Jan.

“That is true.” She pulls herself up on her seat, readjusts herself. “Let me dial that back and speak instead about the many specific ways Katya would be a great captain-” she attempts to start, but Jackie holds her hand up to stop her.

“You can go,” Jackie tells her, dismissively, but not as harshly as she intended. 

“But I haven’t given you my recommendation.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“You don’t want it?”

“You are correct.”

Jan stares blankly, her face morphing from confusion to annoyance all under the watchful gaze of Jackie, who leans back in her seat. “I am the Chief of this fire department. I am your bosses, bosses, boss. And the way you have spoken to me, the insubordination with which you have approached this peer review? It tells me everything I need to know about how Zamo has trained you. So yes. You and I are done here.”

*

Jan slinks down the stairs silently, somehow avoiding the curse of the creaky linoleum that always squeaks under heavy boots. She slips into the kitchen, not unnoticed, but not acknowledged as she quietly moves around, pulling the box of lucky charms out of the A-team cupboard, and her beloved almond milk out of the fridge to create a wonderful bowl of six p.m. cereal.

She slides into her seat at the table and lets her head fall onto the dark, thick slab of wood as Asia and Monét chuckle at her. 

“I think I just shouted at the Chief,” she mumbles, barely audible, and Asia raises an eyebrow. Jan looks up, watching her mentor with a slightly apologetic expression. “I did just shout at Chief Cox.”

“Oh, Janet,” Monét sighs with a bemused smile. Asia watches her shovel a spoon into her mouth like a disappointed parent, eyes tired. 

“Do you need a hug?” She asks, corners of her mouth twitching down as she examines the younger woman, her shirt still a little baggy due to her petite form. Asia mentally notes that she and Kam need to get her into the gym more. 

Jan just nods, focused on her cereal. 

*

Nina is in the lounge area playing table football against Trixie, who is practically bouncing on her toes and losing horribly. They have a scoreboard and Nina is beating them all ferociously - five points ahead of Kam, who is in second, and a further two above Katya, who is third. 

She’s naturally competitive, always has been, but she’s also naturally a silver medalist. She’s got a lifetime of working hard, but not hard enough, behind her, and it’s something she carries like a weight on her shoulders. She’s never quite good enough. 

Maybe it’s why she’s still off with Monét. Maybe it’s why she cannot handle the idea of fucking in the turnout room and ignoring the chemistry every other second of the day. Maybe so. 

She’s also an overthinker.

Luckily for her, Trixie is a sore loser and coerces her into another match that Nina will almost certainly win, and she’s very close to doing so when the Chief turns up at the door. 

“I forgot to tell Manitone to send you up,” she states, quietly, but with authority that tells them both that this game will not get an ending. 

“Got it, Boss,” Nina replies, and she follows her up to the conference room in silence. When they are both seated comfortably (or as comfortably as one can sit on the non-padded chairs), Jackie begins to speak.

“Tell me about Zamo around the station,” she requests, and Nina’s eyes crinkle at that because she was prepared to talk about the sinkhole or the coffee bean storage plant that housed some runaway kids. She’s unsure that a discussion about the bet on Katya’s relationship status is the right thing to discuss.

“Okay,” she responds instead, calmly and slowly. “We’ve always heard of these things called ‘Pole Days’...

_ They all stood in the main engine area, surrounded by the shiny, red firetrucks and Aid-cars all proudly printed with ‘13’. It was the day after Michelle’s funeral, and the dark, puffy under-eyes showed it plain and clear, so Katya decided they needed something uplifting. _

_ Michelle would always promise them a Pole Day. A chance to use the firepole standing in the corner of the station. They were more legacies than they were reality - a promise to make them work a little bit harder, but they never reached one.  _

_ The pole was rarely used - much faster and safer to just take the stairs, and Michelle would just never let them. _

_ So the day after the funeral, Zamo looked them all in the eye and declared a Pole Day. It was one of the first times a few of them had cracked a smile since Michelle died. They followed her up the stairs onto the walkway and crowded around the pole, taking it one by one to slide down.  _

“It lightened everyone up. Reminded us why we were there. I don’t think there was anything that could have been done to help us all through except that.”

Nina smiles at the memory and it makes the corner of Jackie’s lips quirk up reflexively. “Is that your plea for Zamo’s captainship?” She asks with almost a joking tone in her voice, and Nina answers simply. 

“Yes. She is kind and she always knows what to do.”

“Then you can go,” Jackie tells her. “Sent Bertin.”

Nina leaves on a mission to go and wake Monét up from whatever nap she’s taking on the couch instead of her bunk.

*

Monét is awoken by Nina’s bemused expression and is keenly aware of the ache in her neck. Nina watches as she pushes into the muscle and just chuckles at the look of pain on her face.

“I do keep telling you to just nap in the bunks,” she reminds her, somewhat exasperated, and Monét just pats her head to check her tight bun and scrunches her nose in response.

She walks the well-trodden path to the conference room with a resounding sense of calm. There is no way Nina would have left the Chief angry, so her job should be simple. She and Nina are very similar beings, only where Nina is full of peace and calm and a little anxious energy - Monét is full of hot coals that she tosses in her palms like small pebbles. She is kind, but with fire, a power Nina does not possess, even if she is a better leader. 

Monét’s grandmama always told her to take that power, that fire, and use it, and Monét does. She is quiet flames that flicker evenly.

She is quiet, too, as she reaches the door, pushing it open to the less than welcoming face of the Chief.

“Chief Cox,” she nods, and Jackie nods in return, gesturing to the still-warm chair of hell. 

“Bertin. Four years of service, partnered with West.” Monét nods, this is all correct. “Tell me about the station,” she asks vaguely, and it forces Monét to think a little more about what she’s going to say.

“I’m sure you’ve heard we’re a family,” she begins, that bit is important, it needs to be known. Jackie smiles in acknowledgement. “I do believe that makes this house special. We support unconditionally and we enjoy our job, we enjoy who we are with. We have a table football tournament and a family dinner once a week, and this house feels like a home. I cannot stress that enough.”

“I see what you are trying to say, Bertin,” Jackie points out with a quirked eyebrow. “I do not plan to disrupt your house.” Monét visibly relaxes at this, and Jackie continues, “Why Zamo though? Why not Mattel?”

Monét frowns. “Trixie would be great - she’s the other half, calmer and more collected. But Zamo has something else. She’s got a perspective, she’s adaptable, and she’s fast with it. She’d be a better captain.”

There is not much to consider in what Monét is saying, but Jackie still manages to seem like she’s thinking long and hard before she waves a hand to dismiss her.

“Thank you. Send me Mattel,” she tells, keeping it brief as Monét lets the door shut loudly. 

*

Trixie does not know what to expect when she comes into the conference room, head down, lieutenant pins freshly shined. She is not shy - far from it - growing up an ambitious teen with bushy blonde hair and enough tenacity to set the community theatre on fire. 

She didn’t set it on fire. But it did go up in flames. She was only nineteen when she was on the stage as Hope Harcourt in 'Anything Goes' and the backdrop set alight. She felt the heat on her back before the crowd started to scream. She lost her best friend - the pianist Ben - but Michelle saw her, saw something in her, and offered her mentorship. And nine years later, here she is. 

Stood in front of the new fire chief, hoping she can avoid getting her girlfriend in trouble. They’ve been together since the academy, five years and counting, and, yes, the majority of the relationship has been in supply closets and the safety of unknown diners, but it is strong. Strong enough to withstand the new chief. Strong enough for more years of secret love.

“Ah, Mattel.” Chief Cox smiles as she welcomes her in. “You’re my last.”

Trixie can see the exhaustion on the brunette's face, is almost sorry for her, but she steels herself. “Chief Cox, I hope this one isn’t too hard.” She means for Jackie, but she hopes for herself too. 

Jackie gives another tight half-smile and nods. ”I want you to talk me through your team,” she asks and Trixie nods complacently. She can do that. “From the bottom.”

Trixie doesn’t entirely understand what Jackie wants of her - she’s met them all - why does she need another opinion. And then she realises something; Jackie has seen them all defensive and raw and honest. She’s heard them give opinions of each other, but she wants one eye, one voice to coat them all.

“Okay, so there’s the probationary,” Trixie starts, “Vanessa Mateo. She’s driven, new, but chaotic still. Brooke is working on ironing that out. She’s gone out a few times on aid car, but we’re waiting a few more weeks until we run her as part of the ladder team.”

Jackie hums and Trixie continues. “There’s Brooke Hytes, she’s mentoring Vanessa. She’s staunch, serious, but she’s also the most caring person when on aid car. We keep her there most of the time because she is able to keep patients the calmest. They react best to her calm and steady presence. Her old partner is Jan Mantione. She was the last proby, but Asia was her mentor. She’s fiery like Vanessa, but it’s more restrained. She has the power and determination of a soccer player - she was one - and you can tell. She’s got one of the best physical results this station has seen in a while, and she’s reliable.”

Jackie seems unhappy with that last description, but Trixie doesn’t note it, biting the inside of her lip as she tries to maintain her focus.

“Nina and Monét. Nina West is kind and compassionate and usually cares a little too much. She’s good on the front desk and great when we have kids on the scene - not to say she’s not a great fighter, but she’s an even better team player. Monét Bertin is similar, but she has more power behind her. More disciplined. A great pairing.”

“I want West’s papers on my desk for the next Lieutenant exam,” Jackie says as she taps her pen on the table and Trixie just nods, taking it in without showing emotion. She agrees with the call, but she hesitates on how it will affect the dynamic. It shouldn’t.

“I’ll make sure of it Chief.”

“Good. You can continue."

“Kam and Asia. Kameron Michaels is arguably the strongest woman on the team - good for anything requiring force, venting, battering, she’s the one. She and Asia have been a pairing since the academy and you can tell with the way they move together. Well oiled machine. Asia O’Hara is always calm, always measured. She’s adaptable, a good leader, and very centred. She’s the mother of the station, keeps us balanced.”

“My father trained them,” Jackie lets slip, and she winces as she does - realising what she’s opened herself up to, but no jibe comes. Most firefighters would take the chance to make a comment about the ex-chief (the man was not loved), but Trixie just raises her eyebrows calmly. 

“They are good fighters,” she agrees as if that was the clear intention behind Jackie’s words. She moves on quickly. “Then there’s me and Kat. She’s a controlled explosion at all times. She’s a tornado, but she is always ten steps ahead of us all. She can process it all and make a responsible and well thought out plan in moments. She leads the team with grace and skill, and I don’t think you could find a better captain.”

Jackie smirks, quirking an eyebrow and running a hand through her hair as she watches the blonde. “Why not you?” She asks, tone measured, and Trixie’s face contorts into a grimace.

“I am not as beloved. I balance Katya, but I do not lead the team. I cannot make plans that cover so many outcomes. I am determined but fixed, and she is adaptable. She is chaos and, yes, I keep her centred, but I am too centred for the responsibility.” Her eyes are open and honest and filled with something short of adoration. She confirms things without speaking them, and Jackie can see a level of calm rise in the woman as she finishes. 

“You can leave, Mattel,” she tells her, a decision made, and Trixie is not offended by the brashness as she takes her leave. Leaning against the cold wall outside the room for a few seconds just to remember the feeling of the floor below her feet. Katya is stood at the end of the hall and Trixie melts into her embrace with ease. 

“You did good, Trix,” Katya whispers, fingers in her hair. She doesn’t need to know what she said to believe she was good. Trixie appreciates that.

*

Trixie takes her seat at the tables with a sigh, looking around at the equally tired and dejected-looking women sat with her. 

They all dig into the pot of stew in the middle - breaking the fresh bread Brooke busied herself with during the day and using it to mop up the sauce. It’s good - warm and hearty and feels like a bandage over the wounds of the day.

Katya slips a hand onto Trixie’s leg under the table and squeezes it before she taps her spoon on her fire department mug and stands. 

She takes in the table, the feeling of family warm and heavy on the linoleum floor. “Whatever you have said today, guys, thank you.” She looks at each and every one of them and smiles, deeply, so they know she means it.

Asia raises her glass and the rest of them join her in their lemonade salute, which flushes Katya’s cheeks a warm pink.

“I love you, guys,” she tells them and she means it. 

*

Jackie is prepared for ridicule when she steps into the room, but instead, she finds peace and laughter. They are all around the table playing cards and ignore her entrance until she coughs shallowly for attention.

They all look at her attentive, eyes fixed on her as she shifts uncomfortably on her toes - the heels favoured for Chiefdom more painful than powerful. Fuck the patriarchy. 

“Thank you all for your time today,” she says graciously. “It solidified my choice. I hope you will be pleased.” She looks to the papers clutched to her chest as if her decision has changed at all, but she also lets the quirk of a smile through her facade and all is lost. 

“From Monday, Zamo will be your captain.”

The reaction is instant, the table uproarious as they congratulate the blonde, and Jackie is almost grateful as she can blend into the background again for a second or two. Katya approaches her and her grasp is warm, but firm when they shake hands. 

“Thank you, Chief,” Katya tells her, and her cheeks are flushed with happiness. 

“Do not let me down, Zamo.” She means it stern, but she smiles with her eyes and nods at the group as she leaves. 

She hears ‘thirteen’ chanted as the kitchen doors swing shut behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> comments, queries, concerns? let me know <3
> 
> @ pink-grapefruit-cafe on tumblr


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